Whirlwind

52

[Lamarr]

"Damn," I hissed lowly as I leaned forward in the passenger seat, my eyes scanning the block Riley's car was currently approaching. The moderate sized color coordinated homes and apartment complexes aligning it like some gated community definitely didn't look alike to the ones on her GPS system, which left me to assume one thing. "You were supposed to turn at the last left, Ry. Not this one, the left on Moorpark. I said that like twice."

"No, you said turn in three lefts, not two." she shot back before sighing and pulling over behind a parked car. "And you never told me the name of the street until now so how was I supposed to know?"

"I did, and I said turn in two lefts four lefts ago, so technically it was the last left."

"Negro, what?"

"Just cut a U-turn right here once traffic clears, then at the light, turn right at the 7-Eleven." I quickly instructed, noting how her eyebrows scrunched together in an instant. "What now Ry? Those were the simplest set of directions a nigga could give. I don't know any other way to put the shit!"

"Okay, first of all lower your tone." Riley began as she cut her narrowed eyes at me and pointed her finger my way. "Second of all, you're the king of illegal U-turns, traffic stops and tickets. Not me. Therefore I'll turn my car onto this side street and drive up the back way to Moorpark."

The only thing about that was many of the streets in California, specifically Sherman Oaks where we were currently roaming, weren't like what she was used to in NYC. There were many abrupt dead ends and roads that seemed endless with all of their curves that led up cascading hills, and on top of that they were all compact as hell. Though I still hadn't mastered driving in such a different environment, I knew more than Riley did. And I knew that she was in for a rude awakening and would regret not taking my 'illegal' directions.

"Aight," I muttered, leaning back into my seat and discarded my phone from my hoodie as it began vibrating. "Since you're the one who volunteered to be the designated driver I'll sit back and let you rock, baby girl. Hamad, speak to me." My attention was now zeroed in on the loud background music that blared from the speaker, tuning Ib completely out as he barely greeted me.

I had an inkling he was in the middle of someone's studio session and was now desperate for some silence as he shuffled around on the opposite end. Riley on the other hand was still serving me a mean death glare, one so strong that I could feel the strain of her eyes piercing through my skin.

Ignoring her instead of succumbing to her attitude, which I was sure I triggered, was easier than I thought it would be. Mostly because by now I was frustrated as fuck and had been dodging her one way or another anyways.

After hours of driving from one neighborhood to another and walking around doing tours, Riley managed to hate all of the apartments and condos I had narrowed my choices down to. She found something about each of them that wasn't fit for a child or went against her unspoken standards of what a home should be. I was starting to think there was something else swaying her opinions, something along the lines of fear. Riley never wanted me living here in the first place for reasons that could only be explained by her, and just because a child was involved now doesn't mean that'll change - her actions were proving that.

As much as I wanted to have a conversation that'll hopefully get to the bottom of this, I decided against it until I could find the right way to begin it. A way that wouldn't lead to a petty argument we both agreed to never let happen again. So here I was for the time being, rubbing my fingertips along my temple as I regarded the dull image of my call screen and gradually became consumed by my impatience.

"Ib, man."

"My fault fam," he apologized as his voice became clearer, and Riley rolled her eyes away from me then went about her alternative route. "What's poppin' over on the east side this ugly Tuesday afternoon?"